


1871

by Vivi_Delirious



Category: Football RPF, Swiss NT - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Deepthroating, Loss of Virginity, Lube, M/M, Oral Sex, Relationship(s), m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7107046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivi_Delirious/pseuds/Vivi_Delirious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bürki's are one of the richest families in Switzerland during the late 1800's, 19-year-old Roman and 15-year-old brother Marco's father, Mr Bürki, is a successful businessman who trades in high valued good across Europe. His two sons along with his wife, Lady Bürki, accompany him to England while he is on business, and stay with the Sommer family on their Estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_January, 1871_

The Bürki’s were just about the richest, if not the richest family in Switzerland. They made their money, or rather, Mr Bürki as he would only be referred to by everyone but his wife and children, made his money as a businessman of certain valued goods across Europe.

A wife, Lady Bürki and two sons; Master Roman and Master Marco.

Master Roman had just turned of age to be considered an adult and had a few years on Master Marco.

“I don’t know why we have to go too father, why can’t we just stay in Geneva with Mama?” Master Marco begrudgingly grumbled from his seat. He was slouching with his arms crossed, one pet hate that Mr Bürki could not stand to see.

Mr Bürki stared at his son’s posture and gestured for him to change it or have it change for him. With an exhale, he did as he was told, pulling himself to the correct posture. It was then that his father answered the young boys question. “For the last time boy, we are travelling to England together as a family and I will not hear another thing of it.”

“But why father.” Moaned Marco even more. “It is for your damn business meeting, nothing to do with us.”

“Less of your swearing boy, or you’ll have my cane!” Mr Bürki erupted angrily from the enclosed cabin they occupied, tempered by his son’s inability to behave. His cane, long dark wooded finish with a decorative marbled dragon atop was Mr Bürki’s prized possession, and had markings of past beatings if his son’s had stepped out of line.

Lady Bürki sat quietly beside her youngest son, croquetting perfectly with her cream silk gloves on as she stared out of the window. She kept her opinions to herself. Mr Bürki was the man of the house and there was no other option but to take his words. She didn’t mind though, her husband was a wise man, that is why she married him. For that and his good looks.

Master Marco sat quietly after that, fixing his cravat pin with a frustrated scrunching of his nose.

Master Bürki who had taken occupation next to his father and had listened on, folded his paper and placed it next to him. “Father’s taking us along Marco to enjoy ourselves in a new country, not just so he can discuss meetings with his fellow businessmen.” Roman spoke up sensibly to his younger brother.

Mr Bürki nodded in approval of his elder sons judgement. “Roman is right Marco, we are going for a vacation around England, not for you to be stuck indoors while I partake in business ventures.” He postured his head up, holding firmly onto his stick. “We won’t be the only ones there. We’ll be staying with the Sommer’s.”

“The who?” Master Marco frowned profoundly. Roman hardly remembered that name either but he was polite enough not to shout in his father's face about it.

“The Sommers.” Mr Bürki repeated through clenched teeth from the young boys abruptness. There was a lot that that young boy needed to learn if he wanted to become a gentleman. “They used to live in Basel when we were there,” Marco stared blankly at his father. “Anyhow, Mr Sommer and I are good friends and they have offered for us to stay on their estate in Kent, while we are in the country.”

Roman smiled, though he still could not for the life of him remember this family. “Well that is indeed very considerate of them, father.” Mr Bürki nodded.

While Marco became more enthusiastic about the prospect of being in a new country. A vast contrast to the grumbling demeanour he’d laid before his family only minutes before. “Will, will we be able to visit London...father?”

Mr Bürki only nodded his head once. “If the opportunity arises yes.”

The teenage boy happily moved in his seat but wouldn’t dare make a ruckus of fear of his father’s cane leaving its mark. “A-and see Queen Victoria’s Buckingham Palace? Watch a game of cricket? See Big Ben chime?”

Roman let out a chuckle at his younger brothers over enthusiastic knowledge about the great city of London. “I think you’ll have to be more realistic Marco.”

“Nonsense.” Roman’s father waved off. “Let the boy dream.” He smiled as his youngest son, his moustache stretching and crinkles appearing next to his eyes. Roman turned to his father and gave him a look of understatement. Roman understood that his father didn’t want to let the young boy down with his promise. A disappointed child with a broken dream is something that would get any hard hitting gentleman, Roman’s father had once said and without quite saying it now, that was what he meant.

Roman was not sure if they’d travel to the great city itself or if his father was referring to London as not that great as those that have never been there make it seem. All he knew was that he had to let his young teenage brother dream and not to ruin such innocence.

“Well I for one, think this trip will be an adventure.” Lady Bürki spoke up from her silent stare. Roman hadn’t realised his mother was even listening into their conversation but he gave her a grand smile and agreed too. His mother usually hit the nail on the head when it came to her judgements over their ‘adventures’.

Thus, Roman found himself staring out the train's window of their cabin, watching the scenery pass and letting his imagination wildly over grow as if he was a child age.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bürki's are one of the richest families in Switzerland during the late 1800's, 19-year-old Roman and 15-year-old brother Marco's father, Mr Bürki, is a successful businessman who trades in high valued good across Europe. His two sons along with his wife, Lady Bürki, accompany him to England while he is on business, and stay with the Sommer family on their Estate.

Roman thought the weather in Switzerland was cold but nothing came close to the winter air of England. He was frostbitten before he’d even left the train, his bottom lip quivering as he donned his brown leather gloves and pulled his cravat up an inch or so. 

The family had travelled from mainland Europe by ferry - a toasty warm one may he add - before travelling by train, again, from the port of Dover and onwards to Canterbury station in Kent. The journey there had been nothing more than fruitless and there was nothing intriguing to be documented by Roman. He’d spent the remainder of his time sketching aimlessly into his leather back black page book he kept in the inside pocket of tweed jacket. Silhouetted faces of those in the adjacent cabin or those enjoying the cold weather of Western Europe far more than he did.

He did it to pass the time, however, his father, Mr Bürki disapproved of such createful-ness and tutted on once he’d sneaked a glance. Roman didn’t mind though, his father was old fashioned and brought up that way. Any creating activities were shunned by him just like his parents had shunned them for him.

Roman casually jumped from train to platform once they’d arrived, watching on as one of the young crew train member’s unpack their bags onto the station's platform. The crew member wore a funny flat had with a strap that settled underneath his chin. It caught Roman’s attention and he found himself watching the young pink blushed boy pull his father’s suitcase from the storage. 

Mr Bürki was too busy parading around in a small space, flipping his cane about with a hand place in his breast pocket to care what his sons were doing. And Marco, was bemused with the English language, busying himself reading the advert displayed on the wall with Lady Bürki.

The young Swiss leant against one of the poles that held the small green metal roof of the station up and watched the young crew member intently. Seeming that he was uncover, Roman removed his brown homburg hat from his head and tucked it under his arm, eyes not moving away from the young man. Roman wanted to know how long it would take for the young crew member to spot his eyes on him and it didn’t seem to take long. 

As Roman’s brown eyes fell onto the bending hindquarters, the young pink cheeked whipped his head around and caught Roman staring shamelessly at him. The young boys cheek lit up like a red balloon and he quickly averted his eyes from the dark haired gentleman. Roman smirked to himself sardonically, enjoying his little teasing escapade with an unknown subject. 

“Roman, hat.” Mr Bürki spoke up, alerting Roman that his father was stood just centimetres from his eldest son. He had a weary expression about his face as he gestured to Roman to don his hat once more. Roman swiftly did as his father commanded, perfectly placing it where it had once laid before. “Our coach as arrived now, go fetch your mother and Marco please, then follow around to the front.”

Roman nodded his head to his father's instructions and headed over to where his mother and younger brother stood next to a large picture printed on the brick. He reiterated what his father had said and followed his footsteps, when he’d seen his father head off with two of the crew members, one of which Roman had been admiring the behind of only moments later.

The young Swiss had a certain satirical smile to his lips as he lead his mother and young brother to the front of the train station. He’d forgotten of the cold weather of England already, his eyes only following that of the red uniform, pink cheeked, young soul. 

He’d failed to see the magnificent horse drawing black carriage that had been laid on by the Sommer family for their journey from train station to estate. Or how, much like their own carriage at home, the stairs gracefully flick with a tap to the bottom of the carriage. Or the extravagantly dressed carriage driver with his top hat and coat tails. Roman only watched the young, slightly chubby cheeked crew member as the family’s bags were being packed into the back of the carriage compartment. 

Lady Bürki was already sat inside the carriage, awaiting her sons and father. 

Though Roman stood aside, leant casually against the side of the carriage, watching bag after bag being packed away carefully. Every time the crew member would bend, he’d get sight of those magnificent buttocks and let out an internal grown on satisfaction.  

Again, the crew member caught Roman’s eyes beading into him. However, instead of blushing and turning away as he had once before, he stood straight, a bead of sweat making it’s way down his forehead. 

“Y-yes Sir?” The crew member quietly quaked, fiddling with thumbs. “Is there anything you need?” Roman was quite surprised by the young one’s courage to ask what was needed of him. 

He let out a light chuckle and shook his head, moving to stand up straight. “No there isn’t.”

The boy frowned at Roman’s comment, a look of confusion apparent in one’s face. His hands, covered in white gloves, he went to turn around but stood still, staring curiously at Roman and his manner. “Then, if I might be rash to ask you, why you stare?”

Roman found himself chuckling again, looking the boy from head to toe. That red uniform broad shouldered yet slimming at the waist with boot cut trousers and blackened brogue shoes. He did not quite understand why this boy was dressed like a bell boy at a hotel, and found it humorous that the British would dress people this way at train stations of all places. 

The Swiss glanced at the floor, kicking a stone with his shined brown formal shoes, before back up at the red uniformed boy. He couldn't have been much older than sixteen, Roman thought to himself. That fresh baby faced made him like much younger though. 

“Tell me, young bellboy,” He teased, making himself smirk more than the one opposite. “What is your name?”

The young boy seemed taken back, as if no one apart from his family, friends and those who employed him had only ever asked. Though Roman saw a sign of a ray of sunshine smile, if only a little glimmer. “M-me?” The boy squeaked and pointed to himself.

“Well you are the only bellboy here, so yes, it must be you.” Roman chuckled.

The red uniformed boy glanced down nervously and in a thick Kentish twang pronounced his name. “It’s T-Tobias, Sir.” He answered and moved to close the back for the carriage. “Tobias Monroe.” afterwards, he stood awkwardly and attempted to smile but utterly failed at it.

“Tobias Monroe.” Roman repeated, hand in the breast pocket of his waist coat. “Very, modern, Tobias.” 

“Oh, thank you Sir.” Tobias bowed his head, intending for a nod, but he felt better with his head bowed in the presence of such an established gentleman. 

“Are you not going to ask me what my name is, Tobias?” Roman tilted his head to one side casually. 

Tobias blushed, feeling embarrassed by the question. “I was taught not to do such a thing to a gentleman, sir.” He kept his head bowed, feeling intimidated.

Roman shook his head and chuckled once more, finding the British sense of politeness terribly funny indeed. “Well, I did ask you your name, and you are a gentleman aren’t you?”

“Not one just yet, Sir.” Tobias sheepishly replied.

“It will not hurt if you ask, Tobias. I will not mind.” Roman tempted him. “I am not a stiff upper lip, like my father.” He whispered to make sure that his father didn’t hear him call him such a thing. Tobias gave a small giggle. “So, will you ask me, bellboy?”

He only nodded. “May I please ask what your name is...Sir?” Tobias blushed kindly, fiddling with his hands in his gloves.

“Why thank you for asking, Tobias.” Roman paid dividends. “My name is-”

“Roman.” Mr Bürki spoke with a hit of his stick to the side of the carriage. It alerted Roman rather fastly and he stood straight in posture at his father’s call. “Stop tattling and get in,” He started, checking his golden pocket watch. “We are behind as it is to arrive at the Sommers for the hour, now come. I do not want to waste any needless time on needless people.” Mr Bürki strongly suggested and Roman took that as his cue to do as he was told and not feel a stick marking the back of his legs, any time soon.

Silently, Roman nodded his head and turned back to the bellboy that still stood perfectly still, looking terrified by the presence of Roma’s father. Reaching into his pocket, the Swiss brought out a single crown coin and flicked it the way of the young crew member, with a wink, before he climbed into the carriage and alongside his father, with a smile.

The young crew member looked on in wonder as the carriage took off with the Bürki’s inside. Never having held such a valued piece of money before and never having met such a kind, and frankly handsome man as Roman before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer chapter wise with a bit more depth into Roman as a character in this period fic, again, more to come and better things too, hope you enjoyed this chapter!   
> Vivi x


	3. Chapter 3

“I-is this really their estate father?” Marco ogled in wander, his face well and truly pressed to the window of their carriage. He’d beaten Roman to that question because even he was impressed with the size.

Mr Bürki lightly chuckled as he held his cane between his legs. “Yes.” He smiled to his son. “Quite an impressive size, wouldn’t you say?”

Roman nodded, staring out the other side of the carriage. He honestly found himself speechless. The Sommer’s estate, in Roman’s estimate, was at least 300 acres, if more, and all of what he’d seen was already a grand sight.

The gates to the estate were lavish and extravagant, like something you would find at the Queen’s Palace. Roman had never seen so many tree’s styled in so many different shapes before, it bemused and baffled him beyond belief. 

“How can they afford this?” The young Swiss found himself whispering aloud.

“Sometimes, I do ponder that question myself, son.” Mr Bürki answered and laid a hand on his shoulder. Roman jumped at his father’s touch, surprised by the reply as he thought no one could hear his muttering. “Mr Sommer is a very rich man, Roman, and very wise, he could teach you a thing or two when it comes to financial well being.”

Roman frowned at his father’s words. Was that supposed to be a hint of some sort, Roman thought to himself. However, he didn’t spend too long worrying about such things as his mother, sat opposite him, spoke up from her quiet self. 

“Yes, well, I think our stay with the Sommer’s will be very productive in adventure and education.” Lady Bürki answered so professionally that sometimes Roman pondered if it was scripted.

His mother was a quiet woman, but that’s what he liked about her. She never caused trouble, she always sort peace and saw the good attributes within people no matter what they’d done in their lifetime. She was a woman of God and believed those who have sinned deserved a second chance and to be forgiven.

Mr Bürki on the other hand, although religious himself, wasn't that easily up for forgiving people and Roman believe that he was more like his father in that respect. He was not as naive as his mother or younger brother. How could he be, with what he's seen in his younger years. 

But that was not something Roman should be worrying about as the horse's hooves stopped clipping against the ground and the carriage that the family sat in, drew to a steady stop. 

Roman glanced up from his perch and looked out the window across from him, breath taken by the sheer scale of what beheld his eyes. What a magnificent mansion it was, he'd almost go as far to say it was palace. The place screamed luxury to him, lavish. 

Of course, their own home was a comparison to this, but this place made their's look dull. 

There seemed to be a gathering of people outside the lavish house, all dressed in their finest clothes and stood proudly, waiting for the appearance of the Bürki’s.

Of what Roman could make out before they got from the carriage, they were segregated into two parts. The Sommer family, of which there was more than he’d first expected, stood to the left of him, while, the servants, stood to the right.

Roman felt his heart palpitate as the door to the carriage door swung open and steps were kicked out. He did not know why he’d feel this way, but he did and he could not seem to shake it. 

Lady Bürki was the first to make an appearance, her hand held by the horseman, down the small steps, followed soon after by Mr Bürki, who was swift in putting his hat on when outside and linking his arm with his wife’s. Then it was the older son first, meaning Roman and he gulped, doing the exact same as his father as he exited the carriage, donning his hat and fastening the buttons to his leather gloves. All three had made it gracefully from the carriage until it came to Marco. The fifteen-year-old, instead of doing the sensible thing and taking the steps, jumped them, making a scuffle against the gritted floor below. 

Mr Bürki whipped his head around and gave the boy daggers, already unimpressed by his antics. Roman just rolled his eyes, gesturing for Marco to stand next to him and not to get into trouble. 

Unfazed, Marco did as his older brother told him too while a loud, booming uproar of a voice brought the quiet winter air of the Kent countryside to life. 

“Loris, dear chap, it’s been so long!” The uproar took Roman back a little as he watched that father of the family, take to the steps of his and head towards his father with a large smile on his face. 

His top lip was covered by a very extravagant moustache, waxed and curled at the edges. His clothing matched that moustache with pin striped trousers, a bright blue cravat and top had. He held a cane, just as Roman’s father did, only Mr Bürki upstaged him with that, the man's only silver plated at the top.

Mr Bürki let out a hearty chuckle at the man’s cries of joy, shaking his hand profoundly. “Octavia, it has quite young man, and yet you do not lose your sense of fashion.” He joked. “Extravagant as ever.” Mr Bürki quipped to his old friend.

So Roman was not the only one that had noticed that then.

“You know what I say, Loris, for one to be seen in a crowd, one must want to be seen, and what perfect way but with bold colours.” They both laughed, while Roman and Marco found themselves rolling their eyes. It was typical man talk and although Roman was now one himself, he had never heard such complete tatter in his life. 

He wasn’t the only one however, as he looked up to the steps, he saw two boys and one girl, the children of the house, stood with their mother, who looked paler than a ghost, seeming dry. The two boys, dressed as well as Roman, were about his age, though one looked slightly younger and one slightly older by a year or so. The girl, dressed in a long floral dress, her hair pinned back neatly, seemed to be the oldest. She was a very pretty woman, Roman thought, had that certain innocence about her that only one could keep if, well you know. 

The dignitaries continued between the adults, while Roman and Marco stood bored at their side, Marco specifically wanting these formalities to be over. “Oh, Carmel,” The Sommer father focused his attention to Roman’s mother. “It has been a long time in waiting, what is it now, must be over ten years?”

“I believe a little long, Octavia.” Their mother giggled back, while Octavia kissed her silk coloured hand.

“I believe so too.” Octavia smirked, before he turned to both Roman and Marco, who were startled by this sudden interested in them. “These must be your boys, Loris, am I right?” 

Mr Bürki nodded his head. “They are, this is Roman and-”

“Little Marco. Well, not so little anymore, I must say.” Octavia smiled and Marco looked on in disarray, not knowing what to make of such a situations.

“Y-yes Sir Sommer.” He choked on his words. 

Octavia let out a very loud and over the top laugh, close to a cackle and threw his head back at the young boys reference to him. “Please, boy, call me Octavia. Or uncle Octavia if that should suffice with your father. Sir Sommer, was my father.” He said and laid a hand on Marco’s shoulder. The young boy smiled small. “Oh and Roman.” He shook Roman’s hand like a true gentleman. “A gentleman yourself now, I see, you were nine when we last met, and look at you, nineteen and taking after your father.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” Roman smiled, however, he didn’t know who he was seeing again because he could not for the life of him remember the Sommer family. They were just a new family as far as Roman was concerned. A family that he would spend the next month or more with while his father delegated in nonsense. 

“Where are my manners.” Octavia started and clapped his hands together, rubbing them. Roman was surprised that the older man did not wear gloves in such freezing temperatures. “My family.” He beckoned for them to come and they did willingly. “Loris, Camel, you remember my wife Monika? And my children, Daniel, Yann and Rosetta.” 

Roman had gotten used to formal greetings in his time, even if he was just nineteen, he’d travelled countless places with his father and been introduced to countless delegates. There was time’s where he could fall asleep just shaking one's hand, or times where excitement would get the better of him. For instance, the time he met Ludwig Dessior at the Theater am Neumarkt in Zürich after watching him portray Shakespeare's Richard III. 

The young Swiss was half expecting for these formalities to be a yawning shame per usual, nothing like meeting a famous playwright. However, Roman was left pleasantly surprised as one of the brother’s of the Sommer family made his way over to Roman. 

It was the older brother, Roman believed, or at least he seemed to be. Dressed all in black, with only a outer layered grey over coat, a red pin to cravat and posh topper hat to match, the older gentleman laid his hand out for a shake of Roman’s. 

“Yann Sommer, a pleasure to meet you.” Roman stared at him and then his hand before shaking it with his leather gloves on.

Roman smiled. “Roman Bürki, a pleasure to meet you too.” 


	4. Chapter 4

This Yann Sommer was a handsome man, thick pink lips, dark complexion - which baffled young Roman as he couldn’t quite get around the logic of how someone could look so coloured when little sun shone in this country. Dark eyes, quite a sizeable nose and hair that just felt behind his ears and looked as if it had been swept back into place with gel. 

“So,” Yann awkwardly sparked a conversation with Roman. “You’re nineteen?”

Roman nodded professionally, falling back into his typical faked responses. “I am yes.” He answered, hands clasped together.

Yann was the next to nod. “Ah right,” He sounded with a small stretch of the lips. “I’m the eldest son, twenty one.”

Roman hummed in reply.

It was a typical awkward small talk conversation that they’d engaged in, there was nothing more to say and they both knew those facts, but Roman didn’t want to stop, in fear of having to meet Yann’s older sister who kept her preying eyes on him. 

If only she knew, Roman thought to himself, before his younger brother Marco barged in for a very enthusiastic handshake with the Sommer. 

“I’m the younger Bürki.” He introduced himself. Yann looked taken back but nonetheless let the young Bürki shake his hand. Yann was once as enthusiastic as this boy was, and so innocent either. “It is so nice to finally be here!” Marco exploded with excitement, still not having pulled away from the handshake. “England is such a magnificent place, I have personally always wanted to visit.”

Roman frowned. “Yesterday you were holding onto the chef, denouncing to mother and father that England was a place of smoggy air and awful accents.”

Yann chuckled as the older Bürki said that. “Is that so?” Yann questioned the young brother.

Marco was unimpressed and retracted his hand from Yann’s, the stuttering becoming prominent. “I-I only said that b-because I have never visited England before, a-and many people in Switzerland are so la-de-da about the country.” Marco quickly jumped to defended, sweating in his black leather gloves.

“Well, people in Switzerland do not know what they are talking about. England is the perfect setting for anyone.” Yann justified, standing straight with his hands behind his back, trying to intimidate the young Bürki, though Roman knew he was just teasing him.

“Y-yes they are.” Marco quipped, bright cheeked.

There was a pause of silence as Marco stared on, scared of what to come from the older gentleman. Yann kept his steel demeanour for a second or more longer before letting his lips come to a chuckling smile. “Marco, there is no need to be scared, I felt the same way when I moved to England.” Marco seemed shocked as Yann lent forward. “We are Swiss too, and proud of it.” He added, ruffling the boy’s hair as he’d removed his hat.

Roman chuckled along with Yann’s already playful side he’d seen, while Marco, well, he was quite unimpressed with the whole thing and did not know how to react to it. He huffed, sorting out his dishevelled hair and playing his black hat back on his head. He turned to his older brother. “If you need me, I will be with mother.” 

They watched as Marco marched off towards where their mother stood, and linked arms with her. 

“Is he always that way?” Yawn commented as they watched the young boy. 

Roman hummed. “He is young, naive and very attached to mother. The only problem is, he does not see that himself and believes he is an adult.” 

“Ah I see, a case that I believe Daniel suffers from himself.” Yann commented and Roman smiled. “I think they will get along perfectly.” 

“I do agree.” Roman smiled and glanced at Yann. Yann smiled back at him, and held his gaze for what seemed longer than should be socially exceptable. 

There was a lull in silence and in that time, Yann’s sister, Rosetta, made her way to her younger brother and Roman, a smile on her face. “I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting.” She abruptly sounded at the side of Roman, shocking the young Swiss. “Yann, would you introduce us?” She asked faithfully of her brother.

“Rosetta,” Yann started before he was given a judgemental look from his sister. “Miss Sommer, Master Roman Bürki.” Introducing her in the manner that pleased her. 

“It's a pleasure Master Bürki.” Rosetta or rather Miss Sommer, softly spoke and held her hand out for Roman for a kiss.

“Anshante Miss Sommer.” Roman nodded, delicately taking her hand in his and leaning down to kiss the material of her glove. “They never told me of such a beauty to live here.” He added, turning the charm offensive on. 

“And Papa failed to say that the eldest son was one of a delight to the eyes.” She smiled back.

The young woman seemed very sophisticated, broad shoulders with a freckled face. She had that dominance to herself that Roman assumed came from living under the same roof as Octavia Sommer. Her hair was a fair colour, fairer than her younger brothers as was her skin. She looked as if she'd had not seen daylight in a while with her skin complexion which confused Roman as he did not understand how full blood relatives could look so different in the colour of their skin. She held herself upright, her corseted floral dress a piece that could only be described as her Sunday best was worn, to greet Romans family, and Roman pondered if the young woman looked that way on any given day, or only on special occasions. 

“Papa said that you and your family would be staying for a few months, is that right?” She asked intrigued. 

Roman did not have a straight answer as he was not sure how long his father had planned for them to stay here in England and with the Sommer family. 

“I am not completely sure, Miss Sommer, but I do believe that we will be here for a while.” He answered sensibly. 

“Well, it will be a pleasure to share our home with you for however long you decide to stay, and I do hope that my papa and yours do agree for you to stay longer.” Rosetta smiled politely, obviously playing an innocence game with Roman. 

Roman bowed his head in a slight nod to the young lady, however, as he did, he caught Yann rolling his eyes towards his older sister. He did not wonder about it for too long, though it did stick in the back of his mind. 

“Marwin,” Octavia beckoned one of the servants that stood quietly and straight in the steps to the manor. Octavia interrupting all over the conversations that were taking place with his booming voice and twist of his greased moustache. This Marwin character casually made his way to where Octavia stood, dressed in a simple, and cheap looking outfit that could only mean that he wasn't as well off as the two families. He wore tan trousers held up by brown leather suspenders that were clear to see and Roman thought to himself how one could let his suspenders be seen to ladies eyes, as he'd always been taught to hid them out of decency. A striped band collar top lay underneath his suspenders, buttoned to the top, while a plan woollen tweed ivy cap say on his head, covering his long hair, similar to Yann's, only darker and a pair of brown leather boots that came up to his shins. 

Roman could tell that he was a working man, a man that was probably not as well educated as he was, and although looked clean cut, still had that ruggedness to his that you would not find in the rich. 

“Marwin is our land steward, he's in charge of the daily running of the state.” Martin bowed his head but did not speak a word. “Today however, he will show and your family to your quarters and help you get settled, Loris.”

Roman's father, Mr Bürki, took a firm shake of the hand from the land steward. “That is very kind of you Marwin.” 

“It is my pleasure to welcome you Mr and Lady Bürki, and your two sons.” He spoke professionally, but even if he did, Roman though that Marwin’s voice had that naive uneducated south east twang to it that was rather amusing to him. However he did not let that show, he would remain professional through this greeting party. 

Mr Bürki nodded his head and smiled, while Octavia beckoned two other members of his servants. He whistled through his teeth. “Nico, Granit, help Marwin with the Bürki’s luggage and help them to their quarters.” He ordered flippantly with a shake of his hand. 

The two young boys nodded and scurried over, not looking anyone in the eyes as they did so. Roman never felt too comfortable when his servants at home in Switzerland did that, he did not want to be seen as intimidating but when his father was who he was and Octavia was who he was, he did understand that it must have been a very scary job. 

“We will acquaintance again at dinner time, at six o'clock in the dining room. That will allow you enough time to settle I believe?” Octavia directed to his long standing friend Loris.

Loris smiled coyly with wrinkles by his eyes. “It shall Octavia.” They shook hands, while his two sons stood awkwardly to the side. 

As the two young boys began collecting the leatherback suitcases, Yann turned towards Roman, about to open his mouth and reiterate what his father had said to his, before Rosetta, in her true fashion, took the limelight.

“I shall see you at dinner then, Master Bürki.” A small, shallow pout to her lips. 

Roman nodded and bowed slightly. “You shall, Miss Sommer.” Keeping the utmost gratitude towards her, even if it did bother him that she was already so unbearable to him. 

Rosetta smiled cockily. “I will reserve a seat next to me.” She commented before giving a slight courtesy and disappearing to her mother's side. 

Roman turned to Yann to thank him for the warm welcome, only to find the young brother of Rosetta already gone. Roman frowned before his father called for him and Marco to follow Marwin's lead into the mansion and could only guess that Yann had already headed back inside himself and probably against his father's wishes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, tell me what you think because the feedback is really helping me, more chapters to come soon.  
> Vivi x


	5. Chapter 5

As Roman made his way into the vast mansion, escorted by Marwin and the two young servants, he passed the other’s that had stood and endured the cold weather while their employers greet another wealthy family. He took a glance their way to give a sort of casual greeting, however, as he did, the women quickly turned their heads down and men to the side, fearing eye contact. 

For servants to make eye contact with someone they worked for or were much better off than them was so much of a sin than having a child out of wedlock. 

Well maybe not that serious, but it was still close enough, Roman thought.

The young Swiss had always found the servants behaviour on eye contact very perturbed, and personally he knew that it was a class divide, but he just didn’t get it. He was not personally employing them and he definitely was not treating them like dirt. He treated them like human beings because that was what they were, thus he did not quite grasp why they’d feel intimidated when he spoke to them or when he looked at them.

They soon entered the mansion and the first thing that Roman did was pick his jaw up from the floor upon coming face to face with the sheer size of the place. He could tell that this place definitely belonged to the Sommer family and that wasn’t just as there was portrait after portrait of the family hang on the walls, but the vibrancy of the place. It was enough to hit you in the face and leave you with a very noticeable red mark. 

The grand stature of the staircase was that to hit Roman first. It was similar to his family's one at home, but again, more flamboyant, with ruby red carpets paving the way up the top balcony overlooking the entrance to the place. Each side other staircases came down gracefully from either side of the foyer before a sharp turn to face inwards.

Roman knew that the banister was a sheen painted mahogany wood as he laid his covered hand on it and walked up the stairs, behind his mother, father and brother.

He found himself admiring all the little details of the banister posts that were carved so intricately that Roman was sure that was not a job to take lying down. 

However, as quickly as he had found himself on them, he was off them and heading left towards his family's temporary quarters. When Octavia said that the family had their own quarters, Roman was taken back. What shocked him even more however was that he had a room of his own and did not have to share with his younger brother. 

“This is your room, Master Bürki,” Marwin started and opened the door to a large bedroom with a four poster double bed in the middle of the room. He’d never seen a bed situated in the middle of the room before, let alone a guest bedroom this big. “There is your own private bathroom on the left there, and a cord that is connected to the servants quarters if you need any assistance with anything.” He rolled of professionally, stood tall next to Roman.

Roman admitted to himself that he was quite the intimidating man.

“Thank you Marwin.” Roman nodded and removed his hat from his head.

Marwin bowed slightly. “My pleasure Sir. I hope you enjoy your stay here with the Sommer family. I will leave you to settle in.” Roman nodded and smiled small. “Mr Sommer has asked if your family would join him for dinner in the dining room at eighteen hundred hours.” 

“I will be sure to, thank you Marwin.” 

Marwin nodded once more and made his exit out of Roman's room for the next, however long they were going to be there. 

One of the young servant boys of the house was left alone with Roman, busily walking around him in his servant's uniform. Roman was curious of the young boy as he unpacked his suitcase. He didn't mind the young servant unpacking his personal belongings like Mr Bürki did, watching him as he took a seat on his double sized bed, running a hand through the decorative cover that covered it. 

“S-sir?” The young boy sounded, stood by one of the wardrobes, sheepishly.

Roman snapped his head up and smiled. “Yes?” The servant seemed to be half expecting Roman to cut him down already, which must've been something that happened in this house, but that was not what had happened. He gulped and didn't say another word. Thus Roman encouraged him to grow in confidence with him. He was no demanding, intimidating figure. “What is your name?” The Swiss asked as he stood up from the bed, removing his tweed jacket.

It left Romans braces on show and the young boy diverted his eyes, knowing that he should never see a man in just his braces. 

“It is, uh, Granit, s-sir.” Granit gulped and stood tall. 

Roman nodded. “And I hope I do not have to introduce myself?” Granit shook his head and gave a little smile at Roman. “Good. Now, what did you need to know? I do not mind you asking me questions, I'm not salty, not for a Swiss man anyhow.” 

Granit let out a little chuckle before looking down at the item in his hand. “Would you like your trousers pressed sir? F-for tonight's dinner party?” 

Roman nodded. “That would be pleasurable yes Granit, thank you.” Granit nodded his head. “I will have the black trousers please.” Again Granit nodded his head and took the pair that Roman had picked out, ready for them to be pressed. 

The Swiss found himself wondering around his room, running his hand across the wall and standing at the fireplace it had, with the looking glass above. Until there was a knock at the door, that distracted him. Roman expected it to be Marco, excitedly wanting to tell his older brother about the room he had and how happy he was about being here in England. 

However, as Granit opened the door to his quarters, it revealed not Marco but one of the Sommers. Roman breathed out, seeing that it was not Rosetta Sommer but her younger brother Yann, who took a step a step into Roman’s guest room. 

“Hello.” Roman said politely with a bit of confusion. 

Yann nodded his head. “Hello.” Clearing his throat, awkwardly before turning to Granit. “Could you please excuse us a for a moment Granit.” Yann demanded politely and Granit nodded before leaving. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Roman asked, pleasantly surprised by Yann’s appearance in his room. And he did not quite understand why he was here either. He got that this was his home, but Roman and Yann were nothing more than acquaintances at this moment in time. 

Yann nodded and stood awkwardly at the foot of the door. “Yes, I would like to.” He nodded and put a strand of his hair back behind his ear that had fallen in front of his face. Roman gestured for the young gentleman to carry on. “Firstly, I would like to welcome you to our home and England and hope that you enjoy yourself here. Secondly, I should like to apologise for my sister’s behaviour.” 

Roman frowned at Yann’s second comment regarding his older sister. “What do you mean?” Removing his braces from his shoulders and letting them drop to his sides.

Yann shrugged, holding Roman’s gaze. “How forthright she is in making her interests with you and I believe that you might be a little uncomfortable on her advances so early in acquainting...with you…” He awkwardly finished and gulped. 

“Well, it does not bother me.” Roman smiled and took a seat on the end of his new bed. “You are right, she is very forthright in her attitude and interests but it does honestly not bother me.” 

“Well that is good to hear.” Yann smiled back, stood still in his space. Roman noticed that Yann had a more casual look on him, his jacket had been discarded and the whites of his shirt were on full show, just as Romans. “I ponder that maybe you take this as a warning for future references about Rosetta as this first encounter will not be her last and well, they were get more stronger as time goes on. If that is your objective with my sister then that is fine but I give you a warning just in case it is not.” He rambled on, stumbling cluelessly over what was saying and even if it made sense.

Roman let out a little chuckle as he scratched at his stubble. “Either way, Yann, I do believe I can handle myself and her advances. Although, she does make me feel a little awkward, I do not hope she tries any leg touching of any kind at the dinner table tonight.” He joked and chuckled, however Yann did not and only verily curled his lips into a smile. 

He was not as outgoing and positive as his father Octavia, Roman thought to himself and he pondered into why as the older male stood in front of him, his hands clasped together. 

Roman kept watching him, expecting to announce his exit but instead, Yann stood there with a distant expression, staring straight ahead at him, though Roman was sure that Yann did not notice that it was he, he was staring at. 

“I hope you like the room that my father picked out for you.” Yann commented, pulling himself out of his trance with a slight pinkish time to his cheeks.

“I do, thank you very much, it was larger and grander than expected.” 

Yann smirked. “My father is grander than anyone expects, but that demeanour of his is matched with that of his flamboyant style.”

Roman chuckled in agreement. “He isn't a man of few words, I will give him that.” 

His fellow Swiss nodded with a smile to his thick pink lips. “I should get going.” Yann announced a few seconds later, again playing with his hair self consciously. “If I am to be honest, I should not be here. My father warned me before you arrived that I should not disturb you in your quarters once you had arrived, but I believed it was necessary to concerning my sisters advances, as I believe she would probably be doing the same if I was no here now.” He nervously rambled on yet again, amusing Roman further.

Roman got to his fest, smirking. “Well I do thank you for the warning, concerning your sister but I can handle myself around woman like her.” He made his way over. Yann nodded in understanding. 

“I will see you at the dinner party tonight.” Yann said, taking a firm handshake with Roman.

Roman reciprocated the handshake with a tug of a smile with his lips. “Yes you will, I am looking forward to it.” 

Yann nodded once more before stepping aside and opening to the door to make his exit. Roman watched as he tripped himself up as he went into the corridor and chuckled as he closed the door, finding the older Sommer brother charming in his concerning, clumsy way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness in this chapter, I've had a crazy few couple of days with birthdays and fathers day and hadn't had time to write. As always, leave kudos and comments, it's much appreciated!  
> Vivi x


	6. Chapter 6

Trouser pressed and suit donned, Roman stared at his appearance in the looking glass, ahead of this small gathering dinner party the Sommers were holding. He did not want to sound arrogant but he felt good in his suit and he thought he looked good too. 

Black trousers, white shirt, purple paisley patterned waist coat, black pinned cravat and a charcoal jacket. If this was not the perfect outfit, then he was not sure what else would be. In the looking glass, he stood tall, without a hat, but feeling as dapper as his father would when he would wear a new piece of clothing for the first time. 

His stand out Paisley waistcoat fitted better that he expected. Not only did it make the young Swiss look fashionable and important but it was also comfortable to wear. 

He'd seen this piece in Gartmann’s tailors in his home country, just down on Dlorage Road, the main high street. It was pinned to one of the dummy's on show in the window and although Roman didn't have the intentions of buying anything at the time, he found himself drawn into the tailors and asking for on to be fitted, knowing that he would be travelling to a very wealthy family in a couple weeks time and wanting to look the part and impress when he was there. 

Roman was here now and he was more than sure that this little piece of fabric would impressed. Especially now concerning Mr Sommers choice of flamboyant clothing. 

“You look at yourself too much.” Marco snarled from Romans bed where he had taken occupancy.  

Roman for his little comb from his breast pocket and dipped it in water. “If I do, it is because I am happy with the way I look.” He commented and ran the comb through his hair, styling it into place. 

He saw Marco roll his eyes through the looking glass but just ignored his young brother as he finished off his look for the dinner party. 

As Roman had predicted, his brother did end up in his room, led on his bed in his evening wear. If his mother was to find out, he would be done for, but Roman was not one for telling. After all the young boy was a teenager and people of that age, weren't always so well informed and stuck in a limbo of a child becoming an adult. 

Cologne was the last item that Roman used, spraying just enough to his wrists and neck, not to be overpowering but also not to smell at the dinner table. 

“Why do you use cologne.” Marco tutted from Romans bed. 

“To smell nice, why else.” Roman answered truthfully. “Now stand up before mother finds a crease in your dress coat.” He ordered his younger brother who begrudgingly got to his feet and pulled his jacket right. 

Marco looked at Roman as the older brother straightened out his jacket for him like his mother would. “Why do we have to go to this dinner party?” He moaned. 

Roman sighed and gave him a look of discontent. “Why do you ask so many questions, Marco?” 

“Well, I just do not understand why they have to make a inconsiderable amount of commotion about our arrival here.” Marco rattled on, as Roman struggled to redo the cravat pin of his that he'd messed up. “All I would like to do is get on with staying here and visit cities like London. I want to explore.” He moaned. 

The older Swiss brother finally managed to get the pin just right and brushed the lint off Marcos jacket before answering. “You can do all the exploring you want after this dinner party tonight, Marco. I'll be sure to tell mother that too. But for now, you have no choice but to do as mother and father say about tonight okay?” 

Marco sighed and nodded in defeat. Roman nodded and did the button of his jacket up. “Do you not want this either?” He asked Roman curiously. 

“I want it much less that Mr Sommer wants this, I can tell you that much.” He paces back and forth, waiting for a knock by his father to tell them that they were going to the dining room. “Just like you, I would like to relax or explore, it has been a long day of travelling and I would like my time to myself to muddle my thoughts and rest my eyes.” 

Romans brother sighed and agreed, although he'd rather be exploring the vast quantity of this mansion than “rest his eyes” as his older brother but it. It wasn't so much that Roman was a bore to Marco, he was just not the same person he used to be at his age. Though Marco knew that was down to becoming an adult and the responsibility that was held with such a title. 

Instead of playing in their quarters or in the fields of their ground at home, Roman would accompany Mr Bürki to work, to formal meetings and business trips abroad. 

Marco just missed that side of his brother and hoped that his father would be the only ones on these business meetings and not Roman, this allowing them time to spend together like the old times when they were both not at that mature age. 

The door knocked a few minutes after their little exchange of words and Roman went to answer it, his father towering figure stood, holding his cane in one hand. 

“Fetch your brother Roman, they're expecting us.” Mr Bürki demanded of his eldest son and he nodded, before both Marco and Roman appeared from Romans quarters. 

The walk down to the dining room was a silent one, led by the butler, whose name Roman had yet to learn. Marco has linked arms with his mother for safekeeping on their way their and the closer that the Bürki got, the louder the sound of music became, along with the deep sounds of voices chatting among themselves. 

As the butler opened the door to the dining area, Roman could see the Sommer family deep in discussion with one another, laughing and joking. Roman almost had a pang of jealousy about that, as his father was never so jolly and mother hardly spoke a word. While Marco, well, Marco was nothing short of a disaster most of the time. 

The butler announced his family's arrival in a booming voice. “The Bürki family, Mr Sommer.” 

The Sommers stopped what they were doing, whether it be talking or merely standing admiring the views of the cold musky outside. All had their best attire on. 

“Thank you Haris, you may leave us now and prepare the dinner.” The butler, Haris, as Roman had just found out the name of, nodded and did as his employer said, leaving the room. “How about some pre dinner drinks, hey Loris?” Octavia roared, slapping Romans father in the back. 

“Sounds like a marvellous idea, Octavia.” Mr Bürki chortled, becoming a completely different man to what Roman was used to around his long term friend. 

Roman frowned at this unusual behaviour that his father illustrated, such a contrast from the demeanour he outed on a daily basis. 

As his mother and father spoke to the senior Sommers, Marco and Roman were left to themselves. Marco however, had already indulged himself in the many pieces of glass works across a table and was soon joined by the Sommers youngest child, Daniel. 

Roman heard a call of his name soon after, from a female voice and he knew exactly who it was. He immediately turned his head and regretted it, seeing that the figure was that of the very clingy, very flirtatious Rosetta Sommer. 

The light brunette, whose hair was plaited and tied back, strutted over to the young Swiss, who gulped in anticipation of what was to come. 

Rosetta wore long sleeved button front black blouse, jacquard red and black mermaid skirt, lace gloves and heeled boots, which Roman could hear against the wooden flooring. 

There was no doubt with the added red lips Rosetta had painted that she looked a thing of admirable beauty that any man would buckle at the knees at seeing. However, Roman was not one of those men, instead, he only humoured the beautiful Swiss woman and nothing more. 

He did not find her physically attracted nor to do with her persona, she was merely a bore that would not stop her own advances, that he currently had to deal with. 

“Roman, dear, you look ever so divine this evening.” She pouted, holding her hand out for Roman to kiss. 

Roman did as the older woman expected of her, kissing the back of her hand as elegantly as she had set out for him. The lace of her gloves was thinner than the silk gloves that she had worn earlier on that day, and Roman believe that she did it on purpose so that she could feel his lips against her skin. A damming thought to have on your mind, Roman thought. 

He pulled away and stood with his hands clasped in front of him. “I must say, you do look very admirable in that outfit yourself, Miss Sommer.” 

Rosetta smiled pompously. “I do have to agree with you there Roman.” Brushing down her skirt. Roman had to force himself from rolling an exasperation of his eyes at her latter comment. 

“Well, it is a true statement.” He boringly replied to the older woman, wanting the conversation to be over. 

“Tell me,” She started and he internally sighed not to offend her. “Where you live now, in Switzerland, Papa told me in Lausanne, what is it like there?” She talked in such a naive way that Roman pondered over the fact if she was as experienced in this flirtation as she led him to believe. 

Roman adjusted his cravat before he began to answer her pondering mind, and that innocently looking expression to her round, white face. “Well, it is a very multicultural city, with the most wondrous views of lake Geneva and the Swiss Alps.” 

Rosetta's eyes seemed to light up as he began to talk about the beautiful sights that Lausanne held. “The people, the city?” She continued to question the young Swiss. “Papa told us that Lausanne is in the French speaking part of Switzerland, do you speak the language?”

The Swiss boy nodded. “I do indeed. I speak four languages, as we've lived all over Switzerland and the many languages that come with each part of the country.” 

“Oh!” Rosetta clapped excitedly, her nativity shining through. “Could you speak a little French for me? If I may ask of course.” Roman nodded.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat, finding a phrase that he speak. “Tu es ennuyant.” He pronounced and have the older woman a smoky look, to make it sound much better than what it meant. 

Rosetta fluttered her eyelashes. “What does that mean?” 

“It means; you are beautiful.” Roman lied, wanting to chuckle at what he'd really said but knew that it would be immature of him. 

The young woman, pouted with a smile. “I do wish we lived back in Switzerland,” “England is nice, and it is our home, but it does not feel like home. When we speak English, to the servants and locals, they give us discerning glances as if we are some undiscovered creature of the east.” 

“Well, maybe when you are older, you could move back.” He humoured with a smile. 

“Oh, I would like to.” She nodded in agreement. “The last time we lived in our home country was in Basel, when your family lived there also.” Rosetta commented quietly, seemingly deep in thought. “I remember that Yann was very young, and Daniel was only a baby, they cannot remember their time in Switzerland. I am the only one that can.” 

It was the first time that Yann had been mentioned and Roman immediately darted his eyes across the room to find the older Swissman. In all honesty, Roman had forgotten about Yann but now he found himself trying to find him desperately. When he did find him, Yann stood in a dark corner of the room, keeping himself to himself, and at the time that Roman caught his figure, checking a very delicate looking pocket watch. Yann wore a red pinned cravat and silver detailed waist coat, while the rest; jacket and trousers, and brogues were a very dark noir, which Roman believed helped him blend out of sight. The older Swiss hadn't caught Roman staring at him unerringly from across the room, though Rosetta had, and stopped her chattering to glance back at her younger brother. 

“You wonder why he stands alone?” She asked cautiously. Roman nodded intrigued. “Yann is...has always been one to be by himself, from his teenage years he has done so. I do not know why, I don't not want to know why, though he does. He prefers to be alone in his quarters, or walking through the estate or even through the local towns market.” Rosetta stared at her younger brother. “He doesn't like formal events like this, he'd rather keep away.” 

_Me too_ , Roman thought still eyeing Yann from across the room. 

Rosetta put her hand to Romans arm, snapping his look away from the long hair Sommer. “I do like these formal events, and I do like having company, especially you Roman.” She changed to her flirtatious self once more. 

Though Roman was not interested in the slightest and offered a small raise of his lips as a gesture to her comment. His eyes snapped back over to Yann who now lent against the wall in the corner, as he did, Yann's happened to look up at the same time and their gazes met, neither looked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in the lateness of this chapter, I've just been busy lately with work and birthdays that I've not had enough time ti write from being tired. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, leave kudos and comments! I love seeing your feedback, it helps me have confidence to continue to write. 
> 
> Vivi x


	7. Chapter 7

Yann and Romans gaze did not falter until Yann's father announced that the dinner table was ready to be seated. Then it was Yann that glanced away first, curling a piece of hair behind his ear. 

Roman wasn't quite sure what happened there, and found himself frowning at the situation when Rosetta linked arms with him. 

“I believe they have seated us next to each other.” Rosetta whispered in Romans ear and caught the older Bürki's attention. 

Roman wanted to tell her how much of a disappointment that was and how far he wanted to be seated from her, but Roman knew he couldn't. “Well that is very convenient Miss Sommer.” He smiled though his his discontent well. 

As the party seated at the dining table, Roman kept glancing the way of Yann, wondering where he'd be seated. With each head of the households sat either end on the table, Roman wondered if Yann would sit close to his family, and away from Roman, or somewhat in the middle, where he was seated. 

Unfortunately for Roman, it was true what Rosetta had told him, and she seated gracefully next to the younger Swissman. She kept that pouting redness to her lips, as she sat side on, facing Roman, which unnerved him a tad. Though, he kept his eyes from her and on her young brother. Watching intently as Yann took a seat opposite him, just as gracefully as his sister had. 

Yann glanced, only for a second, over at Roman before back over to his father as the meals began to be put down in front of them. 

If only for a slight glance, Roman did catch it before his own attention went to the first appetiser that lay before him. He glanced down at the food, expecting it be a homely supplement as a reminder of him but he was grossly incorrect. 

“A taste of Britain's finest.” Octavia announced from the other end of the table, a beaming smile to his lips. “The finest oysters caught fresh this morning from the English coast.” 

Roman glanced down at his plate and gulped heavily, feeling nausea by the sight of these slim ridden...things. He shouldn't even consider it food. It looked like a giant, slimmed bogey, sitting in a shell. The young Swiss didn't want to eat it but he knew if he was to seem polite and not embarrass his parents, then he must. 

_He goes nothing,_  Roman thought to himself, picking up one of the vile looking oysters. Though as he went to eat it, he stopped as a thought of how to...was there a trick to eating them? Did they need a dressing? 

Roman glanced around the table at the more “experienced” eater of this type of fish and watched as they slipped them back as if it was nothing. Even his father and mother seemed to know how to eat it, even Marco was giving it a go, although the grimace his face held seconds after heavily swallowing one showed his disliking for them. 

Yann, who Roman sat opposite, seemed to be enjoying his platter of oysters and Roman found himself watching from the older Sommer brother how things were done in the oyster eating world that was England. 

There seemed to be a small fork like item that Yann grabbed from the side of his plate and when Roman glanced down, he had the same item. Hastily, the young Swiss picked it up, watching intently - without making it too obvious of course - as Yann sort of moved the oyster around in its liquid filled half shell, to, well what Roman had guessed as to detached it from its shell. Then, Yann, who was oblivious to the intent eyes of his fellow Swiss watching, grabbed a pinch of rock salt and sprinkled it on, before adding a squeeze of lemon. 

Roman thought that rock salt and lemon together was a very odd combination but was not to swift in overlooking the fact that oyster as an edible food itself was frankly stomach churning. 

Though, he kept watching Yann to see what he would do next, but had an incline that Yann would pick up the shell and slurp it down as the rest of the dinner table was already partaking in. 

Yann did exactly as Roman had predicted, slurping down the revolting fish like substance in one. His hair bouncing as he did so. He was curious to see if he liked them as much as his fellow family members did. However before Roman had the chance to do that, he felt Yann swiftly gaze his way and catch Roman looking at him. 

It was an exact replica of previous events that had not taken place more than ten minutes ago. 

This time however, Roman panicked as he got caught for watching Yann and quickly did the only thing he knew would be able to make him seem, well as if he wasn't just staring at Yann eating and threw back the oyster into his mouth without a second though. 

Roman slurped it down, but didn't know what to do with this unnatural texture and taste that had greeted his mouth. He also didn't know if he should chew or not, and really didn't fancy that option. Thus, in a panic, he inhaled the oyster and felt it lodge against his throat. 

He panicked even more, feeling helpless as his fist hit the table in an attempt to gain help from others. 

The whole party around the table stopped and glanced to Roman, watching as the poor Swiss choked on his first taste of England. Rosetta gasped in shock, squealing that he needed help, that he was choking but did not make any movement to help Roman. 

“Breathe boy!” Mr Bürki demanded in a panic from over the table, but Roman only wheezed in answer, his face becoming red. 

“Hit your chest there lad, that'll help.” Octavia offered advice but no one made any movements. The butler and servants stood by and watched, also frozen in what they should do.

Roman tried coughing, gulping, hitting his chest to try and unlodge the slippery fish from his neck, but nothing seemed to work. Everything around him was becoming distant noises, his face felt the size of a ball, and he clearly thought his face was purple. But still, no effort was made to save him from choking. 

Yann sat across the table, his heart beating, as he nervously glanced around the table for anyone apart from himself to step in, but to no avail. His father, Romans family, they were all too up their asses to help the poor boy. 

His heavy chair screeched loudly against the floor as the Swiss got to his feet and in a rush went to Romans aid. He moved the chair out of the way and began to administer abdominal thrusts to try and force the lodged oyster out. He performed them in quick succession until he heard a gasp for air and coughing. 

When Yann pulled away, Roman lent against the table, gasping for air, watching the half chewed oyster fly across the table and land in the hand wash bowl. 

His new waist coat crumbled against his body and his jacket was disjointed just as Roman felt himself. 

The table was silent, all eyes on the two young Swiss men and what had just happened. Romans cheeks lit up embarrassed with that feeling of ruining the evenings jolly atmosphere. His father, Mr Bürki, had this expression about his face that Roman couldn't read. His mother was worried, that was something he could tell, but as he glanced at his brother, well Roman had never seen so much shock on one's young face before. Marco looked, for one of a better word, terror stricken. 

But even if his family had those worrisome expressions upon their faces, roman could not help but feel guilty for making such a scene on the first night of their stay. He wanted the ground to swallow him up for the time being. 

“Well, that is one way to introduce yourself to English cuisine, hey boy.” Octavia said before erupting in laughter. It shocked Roman but as the rest of the table began to laugh, even Rosetta next to him letting out a small giggle of her own. 

Roman glanced around and felt at ease all of a sudden, letting out one of his own weary chuckles at his own terrifying experience. 

“Yann, take Roman for some fresh air and get him a glass of water please.” Octavia announced so flippantly though Yann didn't protest and did as his father asked without a second glance. 

He followed Yann into the cool and very quiet hallway outside the bustling dining area. Roman thought they would stand there as he ordered one of the servants to get a glass of water for himself, but Yann did not stop walking.

The dark haired Swiss followed his fellow compatriot as he kept on walking with a kind of determination towards the servants quarters. They came to a door that led downstairs to the servants quarters and Yann opened the door, about to walk down, but Roman stopped him. 

“We do not go to the servants quarters.” It came out more pompous than Roman had imagined in his head, but he felt uncomfortable for having to go where the servants ate and drank.

Yann turned around, his hand still attached to the knob of the door. “Is there something a matter with the servants quarters?” Not quite understanding Romans refusal to walk down there. 

“They are the servants.” He repeated, now sounding as proudly arrogant as his father, which haunted him a little. 

“They are also human being as oneself and they do not harm like they are rabid animals.” Yann started, curious of the ways of the Bürki's. “They may be my family's servants but we treat them as part of that. My father does not mind that we talk to them, and go to their quarters, and that is something that your family will have to adjust to with your stay here.” 

Roman did not know what else to say or even if to apologise. Yann just stared at Roman for a second, awaiting an answer that was not going to come. There seemed to be a mutual silent agreement between the two Swissman, before Yann took a step forward, and led the way down the winding staircase that headed in the direction of the servants quarters.

He didn’t know why, but when he followed Yann, he felt nervous as if he was invading the privacy of those who served for the Sommer family. Yann however, seemed more in his prime than before. Out of the way of the preying eyes of his parents and siblings, not needing to be so refined as is of expected of him.

Yann casually shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he made his way down to the kitchen where the cook stressfully cooked away. 

“Rodrigo.” Yann smiled and gave a nod to the cook, who aggressively stirred a big cooking pot. Roman was becoming more uncomfortable now as he glanced about the vast, spacious kitchen. 

“Mr Yann! What brings you to the servants quarters.” This Rodrigo asked in more of a shout than anything else. The casualness of the cooks interaction with Yann was very hard to swallow for Roman, He just did not get why they would be so casual with their employers or family members of those who employ him.

Yann smiled. “Someone who doesn’t know how to eat oysters.” With a little chuckle.

It was the first time that Roman had heard Yann chuckle in such a way, or even crack a genuine smile, and it took him back almost immediately. He’d smiled and chuckled almost a slight when talking to Marco once Roman’s family had first arrived. But compared to this chuckle, it seemed false and forced. 

Rodrigo shook his head, mumbling something in a foreign language. Roman blushed a little as he did however, not knowing how to react to a teasing chuckling aimed his way. “Nico will fetch you a glass of water, there-uh.” He waved a big spoon, not knowing Roman’s name.

“Roman.” He said a little bashfully.

“Mr Roman.” The cook smiled.

The page boy who had sat, quietly peeling potatoes at the long wooden table, now rushed to his feet and filled a glass full of water, shakily bringing it to Roman. Roman thanked the young boy Nico and took the glass from him. 

“How people do not know how to eat such a delicacy does bewilder me.” Rodrigo chuckled again, wiping his brow of sweat. 

“Well Rodrigo, Roman is new to England and English foods, so he cannot be blamed for not being shown how to eat an oyster.” Yann tapped him on his shoulder playfully and Roman watched on bemused that Yann could so flippant in front of the cook and page boy but not his own family. All Roman could ponder to was why? “Is it good to step outside, Rodrigo?” Pointing to the back door.

Rodrigo just waved his hands and wiped his brow again. Roman with w glass a water to his hands, followed the Sommer out of that said door and into the very cold air of England winter. 

The cold hit Roman more than he expected, it was nothing like the cold air that greeted Switzerland each winter, it was worse. There was a nasty breeze to the air that felt as if it was cutting through his skin as easily as a sharpened silver sword. 

His hands instantly pinkness at the top, reddening. His breath was so visible in front of him that he felt like he should be able write his name in the air. Roman was sure that the water he was sipping on was starting to freeze over. 

And yet, as he glanced to the side of him, he saw Yann lent against the wall, unfazed by the cold weather. 

“Does it not bother you?” Roman asked without even realising he had. 

Yann glanced at his fellow dark haired Swiss, pushing back the cigarette and box of matches he had the temptation to being from his jacket pocket. “I'm sorry?” 

Roman gulped and shook his head, looking over the misty coldness that presented him. “The cold weather, does it not bother you?” Though, Roman had other questions on his mind that tipped his tongue more than the one that he had just spoke. 

He wanted to know so much more about this mysterious Yann, why his sister speaks about him the way he does and why he was such a reserved individual in front for his family, and not to the servants. 

“Not really.” Yann scuffed his perfectly shines brogue against the gravelled flooring. “When you have lived here since a young age, the cold weather isn't so much a problem as the people.” When Yann said that, Romans ear perked. Maybe he'd reveal all without Roman asking anything. “But you should know, living in Switzerland.” 

Roman shook his head. “Switzerland is...well, a nice cold. England is a nasty, blood freezing cold.” He chuckled lightly. 

Yann smiled and shrugged. “You will get used to it with time. Soon you will be able to stand in it in just your overalls as my brother does.” He chuckled himself, shoving his hands to his breast pocket. 

They both fell silent. Neither wanting to talk and neither knowing what to talk about. Though Roman knew Yann was due a thank you for what he'd come in the dining room. “Thank you...for well, helping me.”

“No thanks is needed, you needed help.” Yann waved off Roman’s attempts of gratitude. “Besides, I did not see any other trying to help.” It was a backhand commented, meant in a casual sense, but Roman got the sense that Yann was the kind of person who was more likely to be passive aggressive to those around him than aggressive to those who had caused him to hold the grudge. He also got the feeling as if the Bürki family had walked into something that may be they shouldn’t have given the way he’d seen Yann react around his parents and siblings the few hours he’d been here. Though Roman wasn’t about to challenge any of that, he’d already made such an unfortunate impression on the senior Sommer’s, he did not want to do the same with the younger Sommer. too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the lateness but I've had work, etc and now I'm ill :( so I had a couple of days off work and used them to write, hope you enjoy. Kudos and comments are appreciated as always!
> 
> Vivi xx


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bürki's are one of the richest families in Switzerland during the late 1800's, 19-year-old Roman and 15-year-old brother Marco's father, Mr Bürki, is a successful businessman who trades in high valued good across Europe. His two sons along with his wife, Lady Bürki, accompany him to England while he is on business, and stay with the Sommer family on their Estate.

The rest of the evening's dinner party went along with no more drama to speak of, but much more of a bority to Roman. Octavia and Loris were the main sense of any conversations while inedible dishes of British delicacies were placed down and left untouched by Roman. From jellied eels to the rightly named devilled kidneys. Even the dessert they were served by the young waiters had a name so unpredictable that it put Roman to the edge of starvation; Spotted Dick. 

Roman was filled with relief when they retired to the main resting room, however, Rosetta had been leaving a burning hole in his side that he just could not seem to shift. That burning hole only seemed to intensify when she took her place next to him in the resting room. 

“Father tells me that you’re going to be taking over the family business one day,” Rosetta politely approached her seat next to Roman. 

The young Swiss took a deep breath in, hoping to have a few moments of silence to himself and his hunger. “It is not set in stone yet, but yes I am hoping.”

Rosetta let out a little girly giggle. “Well wouldn’t that be excellent. My father is striking a deal with yours on potential goods being imported into England, which will be good for the future.” She explained with a hint of something else. 

Roman only hummed in answer with an acknowledgement of a nod. He wasn't interested, if anything he was bored with Rosetta and her constant dribbling of nonsense. To him, it sounded as if Rosetta was talking that way, to maybe set something up. Maybe she knew more about her father's business than Roman knew about his father’s. Though, that was not difficult, Romans father was a precocious and private man when it came to letting those around him know about his business. He was even sure that his own mother, the woman that his father was married to, knew nothing of his business ventures. 

Seeds doubt in his mind on several occasions was the thought of criminality. 

What if his father was nothing short of a criminal, dealing in stolen or counterfeit goods being imported and exported out of his homeland to places like this. 

“Roman, Roman.” Mr Bürki clicked his fingers in front of his sins face to get his attention back. 

Roman quickly did and gulped. “Yes, father?”

Mr Bürki held his cane in one hand, used to stamp his authority, before speaking a polite yet demanding tone. “Octavia and I were discussing the business and we thought it would be a swell go that you joined us tomorrow.” Roman did not know what to say and nodded, speechless. 

“It will give you a good opportunity to learn the business code of meetings young lad.” Octavia Sommer patted his shoulder with a curl of his moustache. “My eldest Yann will be joining us too, to learn the ways of the business. Like proper men.” His booming voice sounded, echoing through the resting room. 

“That is a swell idea father, but do you think Yann will be willing?” Rosetta chipped in, prodding her nose in places that shouldn’t be. 

Her father gave her a wraith smile of affection, patting her cheek. “He will have no choice, he is after all the heir to my business. Wouldn’t you say?” 

All that time, Yann sat alone in the corner, resting his eyes. Though it may seem that he was asleep and his father and sister may have presumed so, Yann was wide awake and listening to every word that had to be said. Yann despised his father’s business and also he despised his elder sister’s fake interest in it. Rosetta was driven by her ego, a factor shared by his extravagant father and frankly family. These meetings were frankly the horse's ass in his opinion, he’d never felt an interest for trading goods and thus, he could hardly see his thoughts changing on that matter. 

Yann however, had learnt to bit his lip in fear of feeling much more than disappointment from his father. He knew he had no choice but to grin and bear his family and this meeting he’d been thrusted into tomorrow. The only slight advantage he could spot, was Roman’s company. 

He may not know the boy very well, not like when they were younger, but if there was at least someone in there different to his father and Roman’s, then maybe there was a chance that the meeting might be half bearable.  

Roman took a glance to Yann as Rosetta brought him into the conversation once again. It seemed as if she deliberately did such things, maybe not to include her eldest brother but to show him off as different, as peculiar. Almost as a bully would do to a child at school. 

Rosetta was maybe a bully, Roman thought interestingly, watching Yann with his eyes softly shut. Maybe she was as bully as her father seemed to be, and Roman didn’t like that thought.

The young Swiss could tell that his fellow countryman was not sleeping but purely resting his eyes. If sleeping was gnawing on your finger pressed against your lips, then Marco, asleep on his mother’s lap was not. 

He wondered what Yann was thinking about, hearing this and biting hard to not react to such injurious words spoken about him. Roman had never doubted that such things had been said about him behind his back, but to do it while that person was in the same room, must be spleen cutting. 

Roman’s father had always said that sympathy was a wolly’s excuse for emotion, however, Roman did sympathise with Yann in ounces. He did not seem to fit in with his energetic, jubilant family. It worried him and he’d only known the man less than a day. 

And yet, his family did not seem to worry not take notice of his way. They all seemed too self absorbed.

“Oh father, would you please allow Roman to take me for a stroll through the garden quarters.” Rosetta exclaimed and clenched onto Roman’s arm immediately.

It gave Roman a fright to say the least. “At this hour darling?” Octavia raised with a check of his pocket watch. Rosetta looked lovingly to her father, her eyes growing in size somehow. “I guess a stroll around the close grounds would be adequate if young Master Bürki would agree?” He had no other option but to. “Take one of the gas lamps with you.”

Rosetta happily smiled, graciously pulling herself to her feet, with a tug to Roman’s arm that she’d adopted as her own. Reluctantly, Roman rose to his feet also, taking on of the lamps that Octavia had offered him and giving a side glance to the bubbly young lady. 

He was not looking forward to this but he knew that going along with it was his best option. As he past one of the many sofas that belonged in that room, Roman came across an open eyed Yann whose eyes never seemed to falter once they met. 

The younger Swiss gulped self consciously while passing but soon he was distracted by Rosetta and her inconsiderate mouth she had. “Do tell me Roman, what are your passions in life?” 

They had not even left the building but the young woman was already chatting away without a care in the world. Roman cautiously glanced to her younger brother Yann. He didn't know why or where this feeling had come from but he was sure he'd never felt dread nor guilt for taking a young man's sister out for a stroll so late at night.

*

His stomach grumbled, he was hungry, starving in fact. The British cuisine was enough to make him hazy, sick to the stomach and choking did not help his cause. Maybe that had put him off food completely, especially that of the local cuisine anyhow. 

In his knees length long johns, Roman stared hungrily up at the ceiling of his adopted bedroom. His gaslamp had run out only recently but right now he'd rather be in the dark. Well, he would rather be eating but he knew that was a slim chance with the kitchen was closed. 

He was pretty sure it was, anyway. The whole of the Sommer and Bürki family had retired to their respective dormitories and there was nothing of noise coming from those cleaning downstairs. 

Maybe the servants and cook had retired to eating themselves after working so many hours, fussing over the new arrivals of his family and their employers. That did not stop Romans stomach from grumbling impatiently though, if anything, the thought of those eating downstairs made him hungry. 

He thought for a second, whether or not going to the servants quarters was a good idea in the aid of a tight twisted hungered stomach. It probably wasn't, but Roman's stomach was too painful to think of anything else other than food. 

Thus, in the cold darkness of his adopted bedroom, Roman dragged his dejected body from the bed. His feet hit the cold wood where the carpet beneath had moved ever so slightly when Marco had jumped upon it. He grabbed his shirt that he had worn at this evenings dinner party, buttoning it up halfway but leaving a few undone. Not wanting to make any more sound to alert anyone to wake, Roman kept his feet bare. He knew that he did not look like a young man should but no one else than the servants would see him and he was warming to that. 

The servants seemed like decent people, which he’d discovered when Yann had taken him down to their quarters for a breath of fresh air. He felt acquainted enough with them to ask for a sandwich of some description. 

Taking his gaslamp from the side, he used a match to relight it and gently made his way over to the door, hoping with each step that the floorboards would not creak and wake another up. He did not want to be seen dressed this way in front of the Sommer’s, nor his own father. 

The door to his bedroom was heavy, and with a bit of difficulty, he closed it with a quiet, undisturbed thud. As he began to walk in the direction he knew of the door to the servants quarters, Roman noticed how eerie that hallways of this mansion was. There wasn’t much in the way of noise but the howling wind of the English weather outside. 

He did not know what to make of not only this place but England itself. There always seemed to be a mist about the whole country. It was smoggy and bitterly cold. His toes started to freeze from just walking ten meters in this place.

But no one seemed to wake from his late night stroll in search for food and he thanked the lord so. There was something about being seen dressed like this by servants that he didn’t mind, but lo and behold if any other caught him dressed this down. He’d feel ashamed. 

The door he came across next was one he recognised from earlier that day and cautiously he stood in front of it, his arm stretched out for the knob. 

Roman paused there in that position, in deliberation. He had only acquainted with the servants of the Sommer family once, and now he wanted to go down to their quarters and ask for food. It seemed not only far fetched in his mind, but quite rude to say the least. Roman did not want to seem as rude as his father could be and after all it was just two pieces of bread with filling. A peckish treat at the most, seeming that the young Swiss Man had not touched more than a thimbleful of food at the dinner party. 

Just as Roman began to turn the knob of the door, there was a creek behind him, startling the young Swiss. With a jump and palpation of the heart, he glanced quickly behind him to see if anyone was in the darkness, lurking, ready to give him a freight. But of course, Roman found nothing. And with a quick search with his gaslamp about the place, he opened the door and disappeared behind it in a flash.

He didn’t want to be seen nor heard and Roman believed that both happened when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, that led to the main of the kitchen. 

There, sat all the servants, around that long wooden table the young page boy had been peeling potatoes when Roman had made his first visit. They were laughing and joking, eating bits of bread and soup; ham and pea Roman believed it to be from the smell. They had not seen him. Not the chef, Rodrigo, nor the first footman, Granit, along with the page boy and butler, whose names escaped Roman’s mind. Even the laundry maid, scullery maid, chamber maid’s and so forth had not recognised the young Bürki. 

Everyone accept Marwin, the land steward, whose presence was not occupied. 

Roman seemed to be invisible and would have stayed that way if it was not for the shining of his lamp in the corner. 

The unrecognisable, foreign light caught the attention of the page boy at first, followed by the whole table. All eyes flew to him and Roman felt guilty for being stood in front of them, the way he was. He almost felt exposed. 

Rodrigo spoke first, thankfully. “Mr Roman, taken a wrong turning?” He asked, surprised by the appearance of Roman, and yet, the way he announced his words, with such confidence, seemed like another, decent conversation. 

The Swiss gulped and glanced around the table, and how everyone apart from Rodrigo would not look Roman in the eye. Even the maid, turned away ashamed as he gave them a look. “I-I uh…”

“Cat got ya tongue dear?” One of the older looking maids appeared from behind him, giving Roman a freight. Her appearance startled Roman into thinking that maybe she was the one that made that noise upstairs. 

The maid smiled at Roman and as she did so, bared that she was missing one or two teeth from her yellow tainted set. “Uh no, no. Sorry.” Roman cleared his throat. “I was just...well...not to seem rather rude given the lateness, but is there anything that I could eat? Leftovers?” He cringed as he spoke, those at the table glancing around. They thought he was rude, he knew it. 

The maid let out a terrifying loud squeal that made Roman feel worse. “Was the banquet not enough for you growing lad aye?” Followed by a chuckle.

Rodrigo chuckled too, sipping his drink - probably alcoholic, Roman thought. “Not enough, Maud, he choked on an oyster. After that, I’m sure Mr Roman did not touch another thing that was served to him, and that I’ve slaved over for hours on end.” 

“I don’t blame you dear,” The maid happily spoke to Roman, as if it was nothing. “Rodrigo’s cooking is awful.” She cackled at her own joke, some of the others chuckling along with her. Roman admitted he cracked a smile at her humour.

“Eh Maud! Come on now!” Rodrigo raised his voice, throwing the maid a piece of bread. Maud the maid smirked on, giving Rodrigo a grin. They were all so laid back in their own environment, so chatty, so much like themselves. But Roman guessed that was normal given that their job is to wait hand and food on their employers and time to themselves is their way of being themselves again. “What would you like Mr Roman? I had some spotted dick left-” There was a grumble from the table. “Ah, ah, priority to our guests, you know that.”

Roman quickly waved his hand, dismissing the sweet. “I’m afraid I have to decline on that one, they’ll enjoy it a lot more than I would.” Roman glanced to the table and the old, stained bowls, filled with that delicious smelling soup. “He felt his mouth salivate. “Do you perhaps have any of that soup you’re sharing, leftover?”

Rodrigo and Maud seemed to scoffed and shake their heads at the same time as one another. “You don’t want that darling, it’s a povvy dish.” Maud chuckled slightly, bemused that Roman had asked for a dish usually eaten by the less well off than he was. “What about some salmon, or game? I knew Rodrigo could back you a bite out of that.”

“Uh…” Roman glanced to Rodrigo who shrugged. “The soup does smell nice, and has meat in it yes?”

“If you’re asking if it is a normal dish, then yes Mr Roman. But I hardly think you’d enjoy it.” Roman just eagerly started at Rodrigo. 

He wanted some of that pea and ham soup. He’d had it before, as a child when he was ill. Their maid would feed it to him, secretly, the broth helping to clear up his chest. 

He remembered it being comforting, chunky, with large pieces of cured ham and potato in a brown like liquid broth. That on the table seemed to be the same as that what his maid used to make him when he was younger and the thought of having it again brought a warmth to his cold body parts. 

Seemingly, Rodrigo seemed to give up with the povvy dish being below Roman and busied himself, finding a fine china plate for the young Swiss to eat from. 

“I insist that you take your food to your quarters, dear. Eating down here in the kitchen isn’t hygienic.” Maud replied, trying to get rid of Roman seemingly. 

“Even more unhygienic in the bedroom.” Roman kind of said with a tilt of his head. Not in the pompous way, but he just thought, what was the point of carrying soup all the way to his quarters, when he could sit and enjoy it around the table with others. Those others, being jolly and chatty. 

Maud gave Roman and interested look, a little smirk to her lips as she did so. She understood the boy more than the boy thought possible. “Than take a seat at the table dear, we don’t bite..well Alexandria might.” Maud nodded to one of the chamber maid who let out a small giggle, hiding her face away.

Roman carefully placed his lamp down and with his bare feet against the cobbled flooring, walked to the space that had been made on the edge of the bench for him, next to Maud. Gingerly, he took his place, glancing around the table. As he did so, Rodrigo placed a china bowl of soup in front of him, specked with scream and peas a top and a bread roll of accompaniment. 

“Eat up. You look like you need it Mr Roman.” Rodrigo said with a smile and sat opposite him.

It was as if the whole table was waiting for Roman to take his first bite before everyone else and that made him weary. He picked up the decorative spoon he’d been given, completely different to those the servants had, and bought a spoonful to his lips tasting it. He smiled as the hot broth and chunk of ham were consumed and enjoyed. Collectively, it seemed as a deep breath was released from the others, who soon joined in and ate their own, just as Roman was doing, quite eagerly in fact.

“My golly, you are a hungry lad.” Maud commented as Roman tugged at the bread roll rather viciously. Roman couldn’t help himself, he was hungry and as soon as that fresh bread smell entered his nostrils, he needed to taste it. 

Roman slouched, although taught not to by his father, it just felt right in that moment. Spoonful after spoonful, he downed the delicious broth and chunky substance. It was gorgeously perfect and scrumptious.

He didn’t feel so much animalistic as just showing his appreciation for a good, hearty meal.  

Roman’s eye caught a burning light from outside as he finished off the scraps, and his head snapped up to investigate what it could be. It seemed to be a lamp, in the far distance from the kitchen. He didn’t know who it belonged to, all he thought was why someone would be out in the frost biting cold at this time of night.  “Who would be out this late at night?” He pondered aloud, again, without even recognising he’d done so. A habit he did need to stop. Sometimes, opinions are better held close to the chest.

Maud glanced out the window, before giving a weary stretch of the eyes to those around the table. Everyone seemed to have a dodgy look about them as Roman glanced up. He didn’t quite know what but the atmosphere had changed, by something in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm so sorry that it's been so long since the previous update but life has been crazy and I've had no time to write. Hopefully soon I will be able to do so. This chapter is more a filler chapter than anything else, more detail on characters, more introductions, etc.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and hang on for the next now, hopefully soon. Kudos and comments appreciated!
> 
> Vivi xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bürki's are one of the richest families in Switzerland during the late 1800's, 19-year-old Roman and 15-year-old brother Marco's father, Mr Bürki, is a successful businessman who trades in high valued good across Europe. His two sons along with his wife, Lady Bürki, accompany him to England while he is on business, and stay with the Sommer family on their Estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Warning.

Yann held his cape around his body as he lifted the heavy iron door knocker, giving it two small knocks. It was cold out in the misty winter night and his nose was already red from it. He’d not been out the house more than five minutes, but now he wish he’d not left it. His room was snug, with layer after layer of cover for him to cuddle underneath. 

The Swiss muttered under his breath as the person supposedly answering it was taking a long time in doing so. Yann was an impatient person, which was a surprise when it came to him family. He managed to bite his tongue very well in those situations. 

When the door did finally open, Yann’s eyebrows had thickened together. “What took you so long?” He asked upon shoving past and into the warmth of the little house. 

“I apologise, I was having supper.” Marwin replied after closing the door. Yann grumbled and took his cape off with a shiver. “Were you spotted at all?” The land steward enquired and took a seat, where he’d left his supper. 

Yann quickly shook his head. “No, you know I’m careful.” Poking the coal fire with the iron stick to bring the heat flaming hotter. “I nearly had a run in with one of our guests going to the servants quarters but I'm positive he did not see me.” 

“Servants quarters?” Marwin repeated, glancing the young man's way. Yann gave him a look from over his shoulder, nodding. “Why would one of the guests be going to down to the servants quarters at this time of night?” 

Taking a seat on Marwin's left, Yann, rubbed his hands together, warming himself up. “I do not know. It was Roman, and seeming he didn't eat any food, I ponder that maybe he was hungry.” Yann sighed. 

“And you are positive he did not see you come out your quarters and outside?” Marwin made sure in question. 

Yann nodded his head, moving a piece of his long hair behind his ear and slouching his figure into the grand chair. Marwin had demoted himself to one of his smaller chairs, that filled his small house. “No he did not.” A slight annoyance to his voice allowed Marwin to see that his nagging was bothering Yann. 

Marwin nodded, picking at his supper. He fell silent, eating the rest of his food from his plate. He sensed that Yann just wanted a relaxing silence for those couple of minutes. It seemed that Yann always had something particular on his mind and the silence was a way to let his frustration simmer. 

The young Swiss stared into the fire that crackled away in the dusty, splintered fireplace. Marwin's place was not as luxurious as his own but funnily enough Yann sort solace in that and quite enjoyed the small quarters. Being the land steward, he had his own place, at the back of the estate. To man such a large estate on a daily basis, he needed to be on grounds and this little white washed building hidden down a path was the ideal setting. Yann had never asked if Marwin minded this place, but by the looks of things he did like it. 

The little bungalow was bigger than would meet the eye on first glance. With its own kitchen and dining area separate to a living space and wash space. Through a dreaded curtain, where there used to be a wall and door was Marwin's bedroom. A big sized bed, not as lavish as Yann’s and if anything, a little tattered. There was a wardrobe, albeit small, and a bedside cabinet, but that was the extent of the bedroom.

Every piece of furniture that filled this spacious bungalow was either junk or hand me downs from the Sommer family. The chair Yann had sat in, grand on stature was an old chair of his father's. Ripped in places, and forgotten about once he'd found his eyes another, Marwin had taken it instead of leaving it to waste. 

“How did you manage to get out of the mansion?” Marwin enquirer after his last bites of his food. 

Yann hummed, tearing his eyes away from the burning flames of the log fire, a well needed accompaniment to such a frosty winter's night.  

“Maud helped me through the small passageway, away from the main one.” He glanced at Marwin who was picking food from his teeth. “Do you have to be so unhygienic?” 

“I do not know what you mean?” The land steward teased, licking his fingers. Yann grimaced at Marwin's hygiene, or lack of it there for. Marwin let out a chuckle, getting to his feet and heading to his kitchen to clean his hands. Yann stared at him from behind, maybe cracking a little smirk as he did so. “How did you find the new arrivals?” He asked, referring to the Bürki family. 

Yann's eyes removed from the back of Marwin's trousers and to his face. “They're nice.” Plainly putting it, he bounced his shoulders, watching Marwin's movements. 

Marwin hummed, washing his hands. “Just nice?”

“Yeah.” Yann replied with a frown. 

“What about the two brothers? Roman and Marco is it?” Marwin continued taking, Yann hummed, staring at the back of Marwin's head as he faced the sink. 

“If I had to take an opinion on them on the first day of meeting, I would say they were good people.” Yann again sat, playing with his hair, eyes firmly on what he had in front of him. “Marco is Daniel’s age so that is good for Daniel and Roman is only slightly younger than me. He is quite a nice gentleman.” 

Marwin smirked as he listened to Yann, finished with his ablutions in the kitchen, he returned to the sitting area a few passes away. “I heard from one or so people that you saved him from choking.” Squatting down in front of him with an hand on the arm of the chair for stability. 

Yann stretched his lips, looking now away from Marwin beneath him. “I believe you could say that yes. No one else seemed to want to bother.” Bringing up his family again brought a bitterness to his mouth but he swallowed that for he was away from the mansion for now, and even if that was not by much, it was enough for him. 

“Still, you're a lifesaver, a hero.” Marwin gave a cheeky little wink, moving his resting hand to the young man's thigh. “Maybe even my hero.” 

The Swissman bashfully blushed, biting his lip as he glanced to the hand on his leg. It had already caused a tingling sensation. “You could say that, yes.” Smirking back. 

Marwin stood to his feet, but did not move away, and instead brought himself forward, hanging over Yann. He wasted no time in swooping down for a kiss of those thick pink lips, while Yann pushed himself up for a little more contact. 

Sweet and short was what it was, before Marwin dragged himself away. He wanted more, but he also liked a tease or two with the young man. Yann couldn't stand such teasing. “You are still in your evening suit.” Marwin whispered, his hand playing with the buttons of Yann's waist coat. 

“I thought you would like me with my formal attire.” Yann whispered back, consciously feeling Marwin's hand and where it wandered. “I supposed that you may want to be the one to take it off.” But if his lip firmly and causing the skin around his lip to turn a pale white pink, Marwin's hand reach a special area, where he could feel the heat rising. 

It did not seem to take too long for the two men to get their signals, before Marwin started walking Yann backwards, behind the curtain to his bedroom. 

Yann had knew himself to be into men since a young age. He’d never look at a woman and think that they were pretty or appealing. However, when he looked at me, he felt drawn in and had this warm feeling to him that he’d never experience with a female. Yann doesn’t quite know when he developed such a fondness for men or how it came about. One day, he can clearly remember something clicking inside him when he caught eye of a handsome man at the opera - he was the best part of it truthfully - and this warm fuzzy feeling arose in a private area that had never happened before. The way the handsome man looked, put all kinds of thoughts into the younger Yann’s mind which he could not seem to budge and in the end didn’t want to. He began thinking dirty thoughts, the likes he’d never had fathomed before and there Yann believed was the awakening of his sexual orientation.

Marwin walked Yann to the base of his bed, their lips ghosting over one anothers so gently it was almost teasing. The land steward could already feel himself grow from the intensely close proximity between the two men. 

“Sit on the bed.” Marwin whispered in a demanding tone and the young Swiss did exactly as he said. As he did, the bed squeezed with the rusted springs that sat underneath. 

He liked having that control over the Sommer heir, he liked it very much indeed.  Especially concerning that he was the one having to take orders usually. 

Yann leaned back on his elbows, watching Marwin with a bite of his lip. He loved this, he loved everything Marwin did to him and more. The Sommer had no time to ask questions as Marwin’s tall figure towered over him and given the height difference, give or take a few inches, Yann felt intimidated by it. The intimidation however was all part of their fun. 

Their eyes flickered, full of lust from one another, in the dim light of the gaslamp. It glimmered ever so slightly in the late night darkness, the curtain of the window half bearing the it outside, but the house was hidden away behind extravagant trees, no one could tell if the occupant was awake, unless they were close enough. 

Dark pink full lips, that was all that Marwin could think about. He loved the look of Yann’s lips, they were unlike any of those he had seen before, and they tasted just as special. Sometimes, Marwin was unable to stop kissing them, while his hands roamed freely around the young man’s body. That was exactly what happened right in these moments. 

Marwin had Yann pinned against the bed, furiously tasting those lips, swirling his tongue around. His hand was settled on velvet surface of Yann’s dress buttoned vest, playing with one of the materialised buttons. 

Yann and Marwin were not in a relationship, they did not refer to each other as being part of one, in fact, they did not really have a name for what they were nor did. For the pair of them, what this was, was a friendship in which they used each other’s identical sexual orientation to engage in this limbo of coitus and osculation. Lust driven, pleasure riding was all it was. 

Personally, Yann did not hold any sort of compassion towards his land steward, as he knew Marwin shared that same feeling. They both were aware that they were using each other for their sexual advances.

Yann believed that was what made coitus with Marwin that much pleasurable. Together, they were able to push the boundaries of their “friendship” further than any couple would. They enjoyed each other’s company however at the same time, if they were to spend any more time with one another, they knew they would grown tired and sick. 

A tremble came audibly from Yann’s lips as he felt Marwin’s excitement. “How handsome you looked tonight at the dinner.” Marwin whispered seductively, his lips slipping to the skin of Yann’s neck that he’d left exposed. Yann hummed. “Observing you before that was a real treat.” Marwin popped open on of Yann’s vest buttons. “Those two scrumptiously stout buttocks on show for me.”

“I hope they were a good show.” Yann whispered, back, his hands drifting to Marwin’s midriff. 

Marwin had only a thin tarted shirt on, so easy for Yann to find his skin in. Whereas. Marwin had to work for hard to find a slither of Yann’s tanned skin from his formal layered attire he’d chosen to wear upon his visit. 

The older man let out a deep throaty chuckle. “Oh it did, Yann, it did.” Bringing the Swiss’ skin in between his teeth, nipping at him. Another two buttons had been undone from Yann’s vest, all the while, intensity becoming unbearable between the pair. “All I could imagine was getting that cheek tonight, getting inside it, feeling you around me.” Marwin kept on talking, his voice seemingly getting deeper while the buttons of the vest were nearly unlocked completely. “It made me swell when I had that sneak,” A sardonic chuckle. “I even let one load off, imagining it.”

Marwins confession made Yann gulped as the last button of the vest was released. Though he was not allowed up to remove the garment as within seconds of one piece being unleashed, Marwin had started on another; Yann’s dress shirt. 

With each button that the land steward undone, his lips pressed against his skin. It was a glorious feeling, being peppered with kisses from him. Yann ran his hand through Marwin's hair, as the older man left peppered marks of kisses. 

Yann was not necessarily covered in marks from Marwin, but those that he was, were situated on his torso and lower body. They were a distinct raspberry colour, as they faded, though the fresher ones were a dark grape colour. He did not mind having them, they were a reminder of the copulation he had previously collaborated in. 

“Your skin is so soft.” Marwin muttered against Yann's lower stomach, giving a swift, sly glance up to him. Yann gulped heavily. Marwin pulled away before he began anything else, silently removing Yann’s vest and shirt, leaving the young Swiss shirtless. 

He smirked. The bare torso of Yann showed those marks he left.

Marwin took a seat on the bed, Yann getting to his knees. There was a silent, mutual understanding between the two men on what was to come next. Marwin leaned back on his hands, allowing Yann to take control on this part. 

Yann flicked open the clasp of Marwin’s brown canvas trousers. Marwin had that expression on his face, that smirk, that confidence, as he watched the young man take his hard member from the clasp of his trousers. His size was frightening, every time they would practice in sexual activities, Yann would wonder how such a big piece of muscle could create such pleasure. 

“Go on.” Marwin encouraged, ready to feel those pink lips fully reimbursing his hard member. 

His encouragement was enough for Yann to place his lips over his tip, like he had done many times before. 

Yann couldn't really remember when he realised that Marwin was as fond as men as him, but he witnessed when. It had been around a year or so ago, when Yann had taken an evening stroll around the grounds to relieve himself of his extravagant family and the heat of the house, when he came across the page boy, Nico, fellatio Marwin. They were behind the horse shed, a perfect place, they thought, to do such explicit things. However, they did not count on the heir of the estate to be having a casual stroll. Thankfully, Nico, who was the one executing oral sex did not see Yann. Unfortunately, at the time, Marwin did and casually gave his employer a wink.

In the following time, Marwin had confronted Yann on what he had witnessed behind the horse shed.

_ Yann dismounted the horse with pure elegance, his feet hitting the gravelled floor with a thump. He did love his horses and he also loved riding them about the estate, especially when father was away on business.  _

_ “Another fine ride Master Sommer.” Granit the footman and groom announced with a smile, holding onto the horses rings. _

_ Yann patted the horse's side. It was beautiful grey speckled horse, Swiss bread. “Well old Aries here knows how to hold herself.” He smiled as he patted the horse before Granit led it away to it’s stable. There was something so calmly about riding a horse to him, and riding horses was a family tradition. Rosetta, his older sister, was an excellent sidesaddler herself. He had a stab that horse riding was a family hierarchy, just as his father's business.  _

_ Removing his riding gloves, Yann began to walk the path back to his family home for a spot of tea, when someone appeared behind him, calling his name. “Master Sommer.” The man said and if Yann was not mistaken, it was the land steward.  _

_ He closed his eyes. Not him, he thought to himself, seeming he’d caught something he’d never wanted to see. “Yes, Marwin?”  _

_ Marwin seemed to move closer to the Sommer heir. “I hope you do not think me rude, but would I be able to have a word with you?” Yann gulped, somehow he knew this would happen. “In private?” _

_ “The study room in ten minutes.” Yann plainly spoke, not allowing the land steward to reply as he walked away, his black leather riding gloves sticking out of his back pocket.  _

_ That was exactly where Yann found himself and Marwin ten minutes from when he had said. He had decided to still wear his riding attire, though he was sure that his mother would tell him off for wearing around the mansion, even if he was twenty years old. Yann was lent casually on his father's working desk, cleared before he'd left on business, Marwin awkwardly stood affront of the young Sommer.  _

_ “What was it that you wanted to discuss.” Yann flippant questioned with a glance behind the land steward as if he was not exclusively there.  _

_ Marwin was not as nervous as he looked upon opening his mouth. “What you saw behind the horse shed, you should not have seen that.”  _

_ Yann gulped. “I did not see anything and if that is all you enacted to discuss then, the door is there.” He was swift to dismiss anything to do with what he saw and how he felt watching it. He didn't want to admit to himself, but Yann did find it rather hot headed seeing such a lewd act, and couldn't help but imagine it being him in Nico’s place. Thus, the sooner dealt with, the sooner pushed away.  _

_ “Oh you saw something.” Marwin smirked.  _

_ The land steward forthrightness didn't play kindly with the heir. “Excuse me?” He turned sharply and faced Marwin. Though Marwin did not look intimidated by Yann's raised voice or abundance of power over the employee. _

_ Marwin's smirk was a constant upon his face now as he removed his hat. “You saw the yard boy, giving me that little treat behind the horse shed, I winked at you.” He seemed to almost become malicious in his words, though Yann and he definitely felt as if this was getting out of hand. Marwin had been taking steps forward all the time. “You liked what you did you not master Sommer?” Yann did not want to answer. “Oh, I do get it. You’re stuck behind that iron closet.” With a sardonic chuckle, the likes Yann had never heard before. _

_ “Iron closet?” He tilted his head, acting stupid. He knew perfectly well that slang term. _

_ However the land steward saw through the stupidity and approached the younger man. “I know you are fond of men Yann.” Addressing him by his first name. “I see how you look at the servants, I catch your eyes drifting ever so slightly downwards. If you were any kind of man, you would have shamed yourself for catching such others doing such sinful things, but you didn’t, you watched, and you kept those beady eyes on it.”  _

_ Yann felt backed into a corner, trapped. He was happy to admit he had more a fondness for the same sex than the opposite but Marwin was intimidating, scary and frankly, he’d never felt so afraid in his life. _

_ “I-I…” Yann stumbled and stuttered over his speech. “I am fond of men, yes.” He gulped upon pronouncing so. “I think, that I have always been fond of men.” The young Swiss did not know what else to say and stared blankly ahead. He’d never said such things out loud before, it was almost haunting. _

_ “Have you ever kissed another man?” Marwin asked suspiciously. _

_ Yann silently shook his head. _

_ Marwin did not have to ask whether Yann wanted to try or not because the young heir already seemed eager as he pushed himself forward and into the embrace of his father’s land steward. He did not know what drove him to do so, whether to test his sexuality or not, but as soon as his lips touched Marwin’s, a rush of blood went to his head.  _

_The kiss did not last more than a second or two, but when Yann pulled away, he felt right. There was a close proximity between the two men, a gap that did not seem to grow in width as neither could bother to pull away. Yann could feel Marwin’s hands on his waist, grabbing at his riding jacket and as if a clap had thunder had descended above them, they locked lips once more, pushing themselves against Mr Sommer’s desk. Furiously, rigorously, lustfully._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I said there would be another chapter soon, hehe. Hope you enjoyed it and I really do appreciate it when you comment because it really gives me the motivation to carry on. So please, leave a comment on what you think. I'm always up for constructive criticism, your ideas and your opinions!
> 
> Vivi xx

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys so this is my first fic, and I really want some feedback on this on whether to continue this or not. I'm interested in what you have to say, leave kudos and comments please, it would be very helpful! I really like the 1800's theme and I want to know if you feel the same way. Vivi x


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